Rose
by NewPaladin
Summary: One drunken night Makalov meets someone who unknowingly teaches him a lesson. Maybe he'll even keep it in mind. Written for the fe-contest on livejournal, "Ghost" challenge. Contains three OCs as minor characters.


Woah, I haven't been here for quite some time. ... Oh well, I recently started to write more again. (I had a short writer´s block) Only tragedy though. So I will post a Lyon fic in the near future (probably). But first enjoy this (now rather old) fic about Makalov. This was part of the "Ghost" challenge on livejournal.

Have fun.

* * *

The night-life of Melior had always attracted men who sought to make quick money. In the darker parts of the town the illegal game of chance and prostitution prospered despite the Queen´s best efforts to scotch it. And one particular knight with pink hair, lovingly called sponge-brain by his sister, visited that part of town quite often, though not mainly for the nice ladies. No, the knight called Makalov preferred playing poker or rolling the dices. Unfortunately for him, he was a very, very unlucky guy. Normally his evening ended with empty pockets, him being completely drunk and sometimes a black eye or a broken nose.

This was one of these nights.

"Get out!" A man from within a shabby bar yelled. The door of said bar was flung open and a pink-haired man was tossed out. He landed quite painfully on his right arm and hit his head on the hard cobbles. "I never want to see your sorry face here ever again!" The man on the ground scrambled to his feet and sped away. At least as quickly as he could. After five mugs of ale even a trained drinker like Makalov had some problems with walking straight. Only after he rounded a corner and entered a blind alley, he stopped and leaned against a wall. While he tried to catch his breath, he slowly sank to the ground.

"Damn host." he mumbled. "Doesn' know who I am. I'ma hero, you know!" A goofy grin appeared on his face. "A big 'ero I am!" The stomach of this big hero decided to empty itself in this second. Rather undignified Makalov spat his dinner and his beer on the ground next to him. After he was finished, he crawled over to a nice patch of grass in front of a run-down house. The grass was a bit moist, but it was much better than the not-so-nice ground. Makalov flopped down and rolled up. He had decided to not go back to the barracks. Marcia would probably greet him and Makalov didn't want to face her anger tonight. Not that he could really walk in his condition. And so he slept.

After not too long though, his sleep was disturbed. Makalov was just dreaming about how the citizenry of Crimea bowed down to him because he alone had defeated the Mad King, and the Princess and everyone else praised his valour and strength, when he heard a whispering. Someone was whispering something very hushed in his ear. Makalov swatted at the person and rolled up tighter. How rude to disturb his awesome dream!

He was just returning to the parade that the people of Crimea made especially for him and how the Princess told him that he would be suited much better for the crown, when there was another whisper. Makalov growled lowly.

"Ngo 'way." he mumbled.

"Please wake up." the person said. Makalov buried his face in the ground, obviously forgetting that there was only grass beneath him. This caused him to inhale dirt and grass, when he took a deep breath. Coughing and cursing he woke up and shot upright.

"Eww. Jus' 'cause of you I'm eatin' dirt." Makalov turned to the person angrily. It was a young woman with a cute and apologetic smile. She had very pale skin and light green hair. Makalov blinked surprised and his anger subsided.

"I'm sorry. Really. But I thought that you would catch a cold, if you sleep on the ground." she said and avoided his gaze. Makalov wiped the drool off of his face with his sleeve. So she didn't want to drive him away.

"Watcha doing here?" he asked, still slightly slurring his words. "Is this your home or somethin'?" She nodded and pointed to the house he was sitting in front of. Makalov looked over his shoulder lazily. The house was in a sorry state; a few windows were missing, the door was barely hanging in the hinges and moss covered the front porch. "Aha." He turned back to her. She was looking at the house wistfully. Makalov took the opportunity to inspect her closer. She had bright blue eyes, a cute snub nose, a few freckles and a small mouth. He let his gaze wander downwards.

She was too thin; her collarbone stood out too prominently. Her clothes were torn at the edges and overall dirty. She wore no shoes but that was not so bad. Her feet were not touching the ground, so there was no need to protect them. Makalov nodded to himself. Yes, she looked poor and somehow fitting for the run-down house.

...

"Your feet aren't touching the ground!" he screamed at the top of his lungs and jumped shakily to his feet. The girl - or whatever she was - startled. Makalov scrambled away, tripping over his own feet, but he kept running.

"Wait! Please, wait!" she screamed desperately.

A shiver ran down his spine. Makalov hid behind an empty barrel and peeked over the edge. He didn't know why he had stopped. He should be running to the castle as fast as he could, but something in her voice tugged at his heart and drunken mind and made him stay.

The girl was hovering there, looking at him in desperation, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Please don't go. Please. Please help me." she begged. Makalov tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Her voice was ringing in his ears and made him shiver in fear.

"Wh- who are you?" he asked, suddenly very sober.

"My name is Rose." she answered quietly and floated over to Makalov. The pink-haired man backed away trembling until his back met a wall. Rose stopped immediately, not wanting to frighten him more. "I'm sorry. I just- I need your help." She gazed at him pleadingly.

"O-okay." Makalov answered scared before his brain could mull over the question. "What!" he exclaimed surprised, when he noticed what he had just said.

"Thank you!" Rose squeaked happily and hugged Makalov. As soon as her arms touched his skin, he startled. She was freezing cold! The pink-haired man stiffened, but Rose didn't notice it and cuddled him.

"Cou-could y-you pl-please let g-go of me?" he asked with chattering teeth.

"Oh!" She immediately jumped back. "I'm so sorry. I- Did I hurt you?"

"No, no!" Makalov quickly answered. Better not angering a ghost. Who knows what she would do to him. "And- and how can I help you?" Rose smiled relieved.

"You'll really help me?" When he nodded, she beamed at him and giggled.

"Thank you. You're so sweet." Makalov smiled shakily and straightened himself. Rose floated over to the house. "Please come with me." Makalov hesitated. The house looked like it could break down any second. And it was probably not too smart to go in a strange house with a ghost. Who knows what kind of other monsters live there?

...

Ah, who cares, Makalov´s drunken brain said which normally shouldn't be trusted. Unfortunately, Makalov´s voice of reason was drunk as well. So he stood up - not without some balance problems and the help of the barrel - and staggered after Rose. She floated over the porch through the door. Makalov slipped on the moss and fell against the door. It couldn't sustain the man and so both of them fell to the ground. Rose turned around abruptly.

"Oh no! Are you hurt?" she asked worriedly. Makalov scrambled to his feet and shook his head.

"O- of course not. I'ma knight, you know. Somethin' like this doesn't hurt me."

"You're a knight? That's great!" Rose exclaimed with a bright smile and an eager gaze. Makalov was a bit startled, but his intoxicated brain was not able to interpret her reaction. So he just nodded with a goofy grin.

"The best knight Crimea has." Rose squeaked happily.

"I'm sure the goddess herself has sent you to help me." She turned and floated from the living-room - where they were just standing or floating - through a door into the next room. Makalov followed her carefully, not wanting to trip yet again. His arms and chin were already hurting badly. This time Makalov opened the door and stepped into a relatively dark and stuffy room. He couldn't see much, but there was something that looked like a bed. At least Rose illuminated the room a bit, since she was glowing and emitting a cold white light.

Rose floated over to a shelf with four drawers. She pointed to the top left drawer.

"Please open it." Makalov obeyed hesitantly. It was not that he feared that this was a trap or that some kind of monster would jump him, when he opens the drawer. He was not one bit afraid, no. But just in case something happens, he yanked the drawer open and shielded his face.

But nothing happened. Makalov quickly lowered his arms, when he heard Rose´s giggles.

"You're a silly man. I would never hurt you." Makalov grinned sheepishly and looked at the content of the drawer. There were some old and smelly clothes, a pair of leather gloves and some small boxes. "It's under the blouse." Rose said and pointed to a cloth that at some time had probably been white. Makalov carefully lifted it. Under the cloth was a small pendant and a letter. He took both items. The little pendant was cold on his palm.

"And what should I do with them?" Makalov asked while he turned the pendant in his hand. It was too dark to see it properly, but it was surely a nice piece of jewellery.

"Could you please give this to Constantine? He is a knight, just like you. He has this beautiful blond hair, just like wheat. And green eyes like grass. And he is so tall." First Rose was serious and grave, but when she started to describe this Constantine she went into a rapture over him. Her cheeks turned from bright white to a somewhat darker white. "He's so handsome and strong and courageous. And he is really smart and polite. He always helped the older neighbours, if they couldn't fix their fences or roofs themselves."

"Is he your boyfriend or somethin'?" Makalov asked with a lopsided grin. Rose´s cheeks turned a bit darker.

"He is. He said- he-we-" She suddenly sniffled and hid her face in her hands. Makalov startled, when she started to sob lowly. Did he say something wrong?

"Wha- what's up with you?" he asked slightly panicked. As a child he had heard some rather gruesome ghost stories and every time the ghost had been angered or sad, something very bad had happened to the hero.

"He said that he would marry me after the Civil War." Rose explained and raised her head again. Tear were running down her cheeks. Makalov was still cautious, but fortunately it didn't look like something bad would happen. "B-but then I- I died." Rose shakily wiped her tears off. "I became ill and didn't survive. I had no family left, so some of my neighbours buried me. They left the house as it was and from time to time a homeless would sleep here. I always tried to talk to them, to ask for their help, but they always fled. And after some time no-one came anymore. But I need help." She gazed at Makalov pleadingly. "Please, take this letter and the medallion to Constantine. The letter contains all my feelings and my love. I never had the chance to say goodbye to him. Please help me."

"Sooo..." Makalov said slowly and looked at the two items in his hand. "You want me to give this to your lover."

"Yes. He deserves to know. I want him to know that I still love him and would have never left him voluntarily. And he has to know that I want him to move on." Rose stuck her chin out defiantly, holding back her tears. "I want him to be happy again, even with an other woman." Makalov nodded slowly and clumsily stuffed the two items in his pocket.

"So, and how can I find your shinin' knight?"

"He is in the ninth platoon. Or at least he was before the Civil War." Rose said and slightly tilted her head. "He is very tall, definitely a head taller than you. Constantine told me that most of the people who meet him for the first time are scared of him at first, because he's so tall and looks like he's angry the whole time." When she saw the slightly panicked look on Makalov´s face, she quickly tried to calm him. "Oh, but he is not mean or anything. He is really sweet and polite. He just... looks scary. But he is very nice. You don't have to be scared."

"Ah- I see." Makalov laughed nervously. How could he get out of this mess? He didn't want to meet some scary soldier who was bigger than him. Marcia was already enough. And who knows what this Constantine will do with him, when he gets the letter of his dead girlfriend? Makalov didn't want to die yet!

"Yes, he is very nice." Rose continued without noticing Makalov´s inner rant. "He saved my cat from being knocked over by a cart without thinking about his own safety. He is such a courageous man." she sighed. Makalov on the other hand was thinking of a way to lose the letter by accident. The medallion he could sell. "Well, but that won't help you, right?" Rose laughed embarrassedly. "So, Constantine is very tall, has short blond hair and sometimes he would wear a three-day beard. And he has beautiful green eyes. I love his eyes." She sighed longingly. "I wish I could see him again." Her eyes grew dark. "But I can't leave this house." She sniffed loudly and tried to keep the tears from falling. Makalov swallowed hard. Her crying made him shiver again and an unpleasant feeling settled in his stomach. And he was pretty sure that it was not the urge to vomit.

"But, you know, I could tell him that you're here." Makalov proposed to distract her. Maybe he could just send Constantine an anonymous letter, so that he doesn't have to meet this giant.

"No!" Rose screamed. The tears were flowing freely now. "No, I don't want him to see me like this. Please, don't tell him I'm here. Please." she sobbed. Makalov nodded quickly.

"S- sure. Don´ worry. I- I'm just going to give this-" He patted his pocket with the letter and the medallion. "- to him and don´ tell him anythin'." Rose smiled relieved and hugged Makalov shortly.

"Thank you so much, ..." Rose faltered and thought for a moment. Then, her eyes widened and she clapped her hands in front of her chest. "Oh no! I didn't even ask for your name! I'm so sorry! I'm always so impolite." She goggled at him pleadingly.

"Ah, don´ worry." Makalov quickly answered and waved it aside. "I'm Makalov."

"Sir Makalov..." Rose sighed. "Thank you, Ashera, for sending him. I'll be thankful for ever." Makalov just wanted to say that she shouldn't exaggerate like his - it was not that he didn't love to hear her praise, but he wanted to look humble -, but the words stuck in his throat.

Rose was slowly fading away and became more and more transparent. "Please find Constantine." were her last words. Then, she disappeared completely.

Makalov looked around confused. The room was empty and dark. The cold light had disappeared.

"Rose?" he called out cautiously. No-one answered. "Rose?" he asked louder. There was still no answer. Makalov scratched his head slowly and stumbled over to the bed. He flopped down; the bed creaked loudly. He wondered for a second if he had really just met a ghost or if this was just a dream. Well, he had had some very strange and weird drunken dreams before; one time he had been a pegasus and an other time he had been a piece of dough that was kneaded by a very strange looking baker. So meeting a ghost did not look too strange.

"Ah, who cares?" Makalov thought out loud, yawned loudly and laid down. The bed stunk a bit and was dusty, but it was better than the patch of grass and Makalov fell asleep almost as soon as his head met the pillow.

Makalov awoke very confused the next morning. He was in a very dusty and stuffy room, on a bed that could break any second and he himself stunk horribly. Carefully he sat up; his head was throbbing painfully. He had a nice little hangover. Not that it was something unusual. But it distracted Makalov from thinking about the strange place, so he just stumbled out of the house without another thought about it.

He grunted when the light hit his sensitive eyes. Makalov would love to just go back and sleep until his head stops hurting, but he knew the longer he stayed here, the angrier Marcia will be. And so he started to walk - more or less straight - back to the main road.

The street was already full of busy people; merchants were praising their goods loudly, children were crying or complaining, women were chattering and the armour of some mercenaries clanked unpleasantly loud. Makalov put his hands over his ears and walked bristly through the crowd.

"Why are they all up already?" he grumbled and clutched his head tighter. Fortunately he knew a very potent potion that would help him. It was really a magical potion. Makalov grinned at the thought. Yes, with that wonderful potion he can survive Marcia´s angry rant about how irresponsible and stupid he is.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Did he have money for it? Makalov quickly checked his left pocket where he normally stored his money. It was empty, of course.

"Damn!" he swore loudly. Great, now he'll have a splitting headache the whole day. He was broke and in pain; this will be one fine day. Makalov sighed deeply and plodded down the street. He stuffed his hands in his pockets slightly sulking.

His hand hit something cold. Makalov stopped surprised. There was also some kind of paper in his pocket. He pulled both things out to look at them. There was a little golden locket and a yellowish letter. But before he could inspect them closer, someone pushed him.

"Stop standing on the street!" a burly man yelled at Makalov. He was leading two horses who were pulling a cart full of big sacks of flour. Makalov stumbled aside and let the man and the cart pass. The other man glared at him once again and continued his way. Makalov huffed annoyed and entered a side road.

Now he inspected those two items closer. The medallion was pretty small, maybe the size of a walnut. It was clearly made of gold, but the metal was a bit tarnished. The letter was boring and nothing interesting was written on it. Only a name.

"Constantine...?" Makalov scratched his head confused. "That name sounds familiar..." His gaze wandered from the letter to the locket. He turned it over slowly. It glinted gently in the sun and was cold on his skin.

Suddenly the memory hit him. _Rose!_ Makalov´s gaze flew to the letter. Of course, Constantine and Rose! He had promised her to deliver the letter and the locket.

A grin appeared on Makalov´s face. Here was his chance.

His chance to get some money. Yes, Constantine surely doesn't know - how could he know?- that Rose did not only prepare the letter, but also the locket. So he could get away with bringing the pendant to a pawnbroker and get some cash.

The grin turned slightly evil. Makalov tossed the locket in the air once, didn't catch it, picked it up cursing lowly, pocketed it and the letter again and strolled towards the main street, whistling a happy tune.

The pawnshop was as chaotic as ever; some chests and other big furniture was in the entrance area. There was a small path that lead to the big table with the scale, several small bottles and a magnifier. At this table sat a scraggy old man with scanty white hair who was polishing a tiny piece of metal. Behind the table were the more valuable objects stored; some weapons, a few shields and helmets, and in a corner stood a full suit of armour. In the other corner was a big shelf with a dozen of little drawers.

The scraggy man looked up when Makalov sauntered over with a confident grin.

"Do you want your lance back, Makalov?" the man asked with his croaky voice. "The price has risen since you've brought her."

"I'm not here because of my lance." Makalov answered and leaned on the table. The old man lifted a questioning eyebrow and put the ring he had been polishing down. "I want to hock something." He pulled the locket out of his pocket and let it dangle in front of the old man. "Interested, Alfred?" Alfred grabbed the medallion and studied it carefully. While the old man was occupied, Makalov looked around lazily.

Alfred looked at the locket from all sides, scratched a bit at the tarnished spots and hummed lowly. Makalov observed him out of the corner of his eye. Alfred reached for a small black stone. The pink-haired man turned to him curiously. He had never brought jewellery since he didn't own any, so he didn't know how Alfred estimates the value of it. Alfred rubbed the locket gently against the stone. A small streak of gold remained on the black surface.

"What are you doing?" Makalov asked shocked. "You're ruining it."

"Stop talking nonsense." Alfred just answered and grabbed a small bottle with a translucent liquid. "I'm testing if the gold is a fake." Makalov stared at him dumbfounded. Alfred ignored him and trickle a few drops of the liquid on the gold. It immediately started to bubble. Makalov observed everything with big eyes. It stopped after a few seconds and Alfred put the stone away. "It's real gold." he stated and put the bottle back on its place. Makalov grinned broadly.

"So I get lots of money?" Alfred ignored his comment and let his thumb glide over the rim.

"Do you know if it has a picture inside?" Makalov shrugged.

"I don't know." Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow without looking up and tried to open the locket. However, it resisted quite adamantly and he had to pry it open with force. With a small clicking noise the lid sprung open. Makalov leaned forward curiously. There was a small drawing in the bottom half, but Makalov couldn't really see it from his position. "Hmm..." Alfred wiped over the glass. "I'll have to remove the picture."

"And that will lower the price?"

"Of course." Alfred answered and put the locket on table, looking up with a hard gaze. "You'll get 1000 gold."

"Only 1000?" Makalov asked surprised. "But you just said that it's real gold!" Alfred´s face remained impassive.

"If the medallion would be in top shape, you would have gotten 1500. But I have to clean and rework it. You should be glad that you get that much money at all." He folded crossed his arms. "Accept it or leave." Makalov grumbled lowly. Alfred was renown for being an unaccommodating bargainer; when he fixed a price, he would never change it. Makalov had tried it. Several times even. But the only thing he had achieved was that Alfred had lowered the price out of annoyance.

"Okay, okay." Makalov quickly said. Alfred nodded and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"I'm getting the money." Alfred stood up from his seat and walked in a back room.

Makalov waited slightly impatient and whistled lowly. He heard Alfred rumbling in the other room and looked around bored. His gaze flew over a nice dark chest with an interesting pattern, an elaborated shield on the wall, a bow and its quiver and then it landed on the locket on the table.

He still didn't know who was on the picture. And he was curious. He slowly leaned forward.

The picture was relatively small and it was a bit hard to discern something. Makalov grabbed it and held it closer to his face. There were two persons - or at least their heads and shoulders -; a young women and a man. The young woman was smiling brightly and had her arms around the man´s neck. She had slightly round cheeks and a snub nose with some freckles spread over it. She was definitely cute. The man had a stern glance, a straight, slightly big nose and a thin mouth. He looked a bit angry on first glance, but the corners of his mouth were slightly turned up. He had one arm around the woman´s shoulder and seemed to press her against him.

"Is that Rose?" Makalov asked himself out loud. She looked really happy. And this big guy was surely this Constantine. He really did look intimidating. Maybe Makalov should just leave the letter on his pillow?

Makalov swallowed hard and slammed the locket on the table. He turned his back to it and crossed his arms. No, he would hock it and just keep the letter.

Alfred was still in the back room. Makalov heard the jingle of gold coins. Normally a big smile would enter his face at the sound. Now he grimaced as if he had bitten on a citron. His head turned around slowly. The locket was lying there, glistening innocently in the sunlight.

Slowly Makalov grabbed it again. Rose was smiling so happily and carefree. The complete opposite to yesterday. Without Makalov´s consent, his mind replaced the image of the happy Rose with the pale, crying Rose from yesterday.

He felt a pang. A very painful pang. Makalov huffed annoyed, tossed the locket on the table again and tried to shrug the feeling off.

It didn't work.

He hadn't had a problem with selling his sister´s jewellery - not that she had had much anyway -, he hadn't had a problem with stealing something every now and then - only if the debt collectors had been too intrusive - and he hadn't had a problem with tricking other people into paying his food or drinks.

But this picture and the person on it did something to him. Something that he hadn't experienced for a long time.

Alfred returned from the back room with a big pouch. He put it on the table with a sigh and looked up at his customer. Makalov stared at the locket with a strange grimace on his face.

"Is something wrong?" Alfred asked. Makalov startled and looked at the old man with a somehow confused gaze.

"I can't hock it." he said and sped out of the pawnshop. Alfred blinked surprised and stared at the open door for a second. Then he shrugged and walked back in the back room with the pouch.

Makalov reached the castle in record time. He jogged through the open front gate. The guard nodded to him curtly. It was not unusual that the pink-haired man returned in this fashion and most of the castle guards knew him by now and let him pass without questioning him. Makalov crossed the courtyard in a slight curve to avoid the practice field. There was a bunch of training knights and he didn't want to risk that someone notices him - especially not Marcia! - before he could carry out his mission.

He entered the barracks through the stables, slipping on a fistful hay once and scaring a few horses when he slammed the door open. He sped through the corridors towards the quarters of the ninth platoon. On his way Makalov collided with three knights he didn't know. They were probably coming back from the mess hall with full bellies. Makalov´s belly was jealous of them and demanded food as well, even though it was not sure if it could keep the food inside. Makalov ignored it.

Gasping for air and ignoring his headache, he stopped in front of the first door. He knew that in these quarters the knights of the ninth platoon lived. Now he just had to find Constantine. Makalov clutched the locket tighter and knocked on the first door. A surprised blue-haired knight opened it.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Do you know a Constantine?" Makalov answered. The other knight nodded slowly.

"Yes. He's in the armoury." Makalov sped away without a "Thank you". The blue-haired knight frowned at this impoliteness, but decided to just ignore it and closed the door again.

Makalov made a little detour to avoid the quarters of the female knights. Therefore his way was slightly longer than usual and he nearly missed Constantine. Just as Makalov turned the corner, he saw two knights walking away from the armoury. One of them was a green-haired man, the other was a giant with blond hair.

"Wait!" Makalov yelled breathlessly. The two men turned around surprised. A relieved smile entered Makalov´s face. It really was Constantine. He looked almost exactly like the man in the locket. Unfortunately, he looked even scarier than Rose had said. Constantine glared at Makalov with a stern expression that would have scared the Mad King Ashnard.

The pink-haired knight stopped in front of them and smiled nervously.

"Erhm, hello. Are you Constantine?" The blond man nodded and scrutinised Makalov. The pink-haired knight shrank back a little.

"How may I help you?" Constantine asked. Makalov was a bit surprised. Judging from the look he was receiving he had expected to be ranted at. The green-haired man grinned and patted Constantine on the back.

"Stop glaring at him." Constantine relaxed his face a bit and turned to his comrade.

"I'm not glaring." The green-haired knight just sniggered. Makalov swallowed his nervousness and cleared his throat.

"Constantine, may I speak with you? I have... a message for you." The blond knight turned to him with a questioning look which looked tremendously like a glare.

"You have a message for me?" Makalov nodded quickly, clutching the locket tighter. Constantine bid a short farewell to his friend who left with a small wave of his hand. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?" No, Makalov definitely didn't want to be alone with this giant and no witnesses around. Who knows what he will do to him?

"Ah, sure." he answered shakily. Constantine gestured towards the armoury. Being alone in a room full of weapons with a scary giant was the last thing Makalov wanted to do. But before he could object, Constantine had already opened the door and glared, or rather looked expectingly, at Makalov. Too scared to say anything Makalov obeyed.

Makalov eyed the weapons cautiously when he stepped in. They looked sharp and probably hurt very much. And while the room was big enough, it was too crammed to fight in there. Besides, hung-over Makalov was surely no equal to Constantine.

The door fell close. A shiver ran down Makalov´s spine. He turned around slowly. Constantine was just standing there and gazed at him expectingly and curiously. Makalov cleared his throat nervously and secretly spied for an escape route should something go wrong.

"Now, what message do you have for me?" Constantine asked. Makalov took one deep breath, yanked the letter from his pocket and offered it to Constantine. Slightly confused the blond man took it and glanced at the name written on it.

"And this belongs to it." Now he offered Constantine the locket that he had been clutching tightly the whole time. He hoped that he hadn't broken anything. Constantine looked up curiously. When his gaze fell on the locket, his face froze.

Makalov observed unsettled how Constantine slowly extended his hand and took the locket. He delicately held it between his fingers as if it was a frail flower. The blond man slowly opened the lid. His jaw tightened and his eyes grew cold. Another shiver ran down Makalov´s spine and he took several steps backwards. Constantine ignored him and focused now on the letter. While he ripped it open and read it, Makalov slowly crept towards the door.

Makalov had just walked around the frozen giant and was a few steps away from his salvation, when he heard something. A something that surprised him and prompted him to turn around.

"Where did you get this letter?" Constantine had asked in such a small, frail voice which should be impossible for him to use. Makalov´s stomach tightened unpleasantly. It reminded of that one time many years ago when Marcia had spoken with a very similar voice. Back then a boy from the neighbourhood had stolen her favourite doll and Marcia had come running to her brother. She had looked at him with her big, teary eyes and had asked him in the nearly same tone if he could get the doll back. He hadn't had a chance to say "No". Her voice had pierced his heart and stomach. He had walked over to the boy, had been drubbed but he still had gotten the doll back. Makalov had been in a lot of pain but at least that dreadful feeling had been gone.

And now this intimidating giant used the same tone. With tears rolling down his face and pleading eyes. How could such a tall and formerly scary man look so vulnerable?

"Would you believe me if I tell you that a ghost gave it to me?" Makalov asked quietly. Constantine stared at him expressionless for a few seconds, then turned his eyes back to the letter. His thumb absentmindedly stroked the locket.

"She always believed in ghosts." the blond man whispered. Makalov nodded slowly and his eyes flickered towards the door again.

Makalov waited for another two or three minutes, but Constantine asked nothing else nor did he really acknowledge Makalov´s presence anymore. So the pink-haired knight quietly walked over to the door. When he laid his hand on the handle, he heard Constantine mumbling something.

"Thank you." Without answering Makalov exited the armoury and quickly closed the door.

When he heard the normal chatter and noises of knights running around and felt the fresh air from the court on his skin, he sighed relieved and instantly lost his tenseness as well as the terrible feeling in his stomach. Makalov ran his fingers through his hair and slowly his typical goofy smile entered his face.

He really did it. And he was still alive. Makalov straightened and held his head high, very proud of himself. Marcia always called him an insensitive idiot, but he had just proven that he was a really nice guy. He should Marcia tell about his heroic deed.

"There you are, chowder-brain!" With his goofy half-grin Makalov turned around. What a great coincidence! Marcia was storming towards him with a deep frown on her face. She stopped directly in front of him. "Where have you been? I know that you weren't here tonight. Did you lose your sold again? If a debt collector stands at the front gate tomorrow and asks for you, I'm going to kill you." She continued to rant, but Makalov tuned her out. He couldn't make her stop anyway, so he just grinned and nodded. At least until Marcia punched him more or less gently in the stomach. "You aren't even listening to me!"

"Sorry, sis." Makalov answered and clutched his stomach. "But I didn't do anything. I was just gambling a bit and then-"

"So you did lose your sold!" Marcia stated angrily. "Why are you so stupid! Use your sold to pay your debts!"

"But listen to me. After I was kicked out, I-" Makalov tried to say, but Marcia didn't let him speak.

"Did you harass other people? What did you-" She stopped suddenly. Makalov blinked surprised, when Marcia leaned forward and pushed his hair back. "You're wounded!" Makalov´s hand flew to the right side of his head. There was indeed dried blood. "You sponge-brain!" Marcia grabbed her brother´s arm and pulled him with her.

Makalov watched her from the corner of his eye while she dragged him through the whole castle to the infirmary, ranting the whole time. A tiny, goofy smile appeared on his face. While Marcia always nagged at him and annoyed him, in this second he was happy that she was still breathing, walking and scolding.

"Hey, Marcia?"

"What is it?"

"Say, can you lend me some money? I promised you get it back." Her answer was a punch. He was not happy about that.


End file.
